


hellmouths, the undead, and ice cream

by Spikedluv



Series: Dec 2018 Gift Fic [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 14:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17003460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: “What’s a Hellmouth?” Stiles said.





	hellmouths, the undead, and ice cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starr_falling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starr_falling/gifts).



> This story is one of my December Gift Fic and was written for Starr_falling for the prompt _BTVS/Teen Wolf, Spike/Xander and/or Derek/Stiles, Spike and Xander check out Beacon Hills because they suspect it might be a new Hellmouth._
> 
> Written: December 15, 2018

Xander and Spike had been visiting Cleveland to check in on Faith and her baby Slayers when Willow felt a disturbance in the force. (That wasn’t actually how she’d described it – it was more like ‘energy, blah, blah, off the chart – but Xander couldn’t stop thinking it once the thought crossed his mind.) The bottom line was that someone needed to go to Northern California, a small town called Beacon Hills, to be exact, to see if another Hellmouth had opened.

Since Xander and Spike were in the area (if 2,579 miles could be considered ‘in the area’) they were dispatched with orders to get back to Willow ASAP. They flew into a private airfield and took the SUV with heavily tinted windows (and a weapons cache) that was waiting for them in the parking lot. Xander drove while Spike covered himself up with a blanket, not completely trusting the tint to do the job.

They took a couple turns through the town, checking out the lay of the land, then checked into a cheap motel in the run-down part of town where no one would think twice to see them carrying heavy duffel bags into their room (or Spike hiding under a blanket). Once they’d put up the heavier black-out curtain Xander called Willow to report their arrival. That done, they checked out the weapons one of Willow’s contacts had supplied and planned their evening patrol. When the sun went down they headed out.

The first park they hit was close enough to their motel to be filled with drug dealers and men and women soliciting sex, but no vampires. They’d covered three parks and were planning to hit a couple of night clubs next.

Spike said, “I wonder if there’s any place in this soddin’ town to get a bloomin’ onion.”

“Oh my god, I love those!” came a voice behind them.

Xander turned to see the young man who’d spoken. He wore a beanie on his head in deference to the cooler winter temperatures and had an earbud in one ear and a backpack strap thrown over one shoulder.

“Sorry,” the man said when Xander looked. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help overhearing. There’s a restaurant on Elm Street, Colorado Steakhouse. They do a pretty good blooming onion.”

“Thanks,” Xander said.

“You’re welcome.” The man ducked his head and hurried past them.

Xander waited until the man had gotten far enough ahead of them that he wouldn’t accidentally overhear again. “Did you sense anything?”

“No,” Spike said. “Did you?” He tilted his chin towards Xander’s left eye.

It had taken him a while to get used to the fake eye Willow had made for him, but now he relied on it. The eye didn’t use magic, but allowed Xander to see energy signatures and various light spectrums. It was extremely helpful when hunting vampires.

“Yes,” Xander said in answer to Spike’s question, “but I don’t know what it means.”

Xander shook it off and they resumed their trek. They checked out three night clubs, including a place called The Jungle, before taking a break. They needed to get to the Colorado Steakhouse before they closed the kitchen so Spike could get his blooming onion. And Xander wouldn’t turn down a steak; he hadn’t eaten since they’d hit a drive thru when they’d first arrived in town.

After their hunger had been assuaged they took the long way back to their motel so they could walk past the high school. Willow thought that Xander’s eye could discern whether a new Hellmouth had opened, but so far he hadn’t noticed anything amiss, except for that blip with the young man in the beanie. They stood across the street and stared at the Beacon Hills High School.

“You don’t think they’d really have been stupid enough to build their school on a Hellmouth, too, do you?” Spike said.

“It just opened recently according to Willow,” Xander said. She’d been keeping an eye on it since the spring, but it had been steadily growing stronger the last few months, and then it had flared to life. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if it was attracted to the innocent souls of children.”

“See anything?”

Xander shook his head.

Back at the motel they called Willow to give her the bad news that they hadn’t found anything. Not even a single vampire, which was weird. Even in a small town like Beacon Hills, Xander had expected to come across at least one nest.

“Something’s there, Xander,” Willow said. “You have to keep looking.”

“We will, Wills,” Xander said.

Willow suggested that they expand their search to north of town, as that appeared to be where the energy signature was strongest. North of the town meant the Preserve. It looked like they’d be traipsing through the woods tomorrow.

They showered separately (though Xander had to demonstrate that the stall was too small for both of them before Spike relented) and climbed into the bed together, both rolling to the center of the saggy mattress. Which suited them just fine.

~*~

Xander checked the clock when he woke. It was ten in the morning, but the blackout curtain made it seem like ten at night. He got up and dressed (the only indication that Spike noticed his absence was when he rolled into the warm spot Xander had left behind) and went out. His first stop was the butcher Willow had arranged since their blood supply was running low, and then breakfast take-out for himself. (He got an extra hashbrown because Spike loved them.)

Xander knocked on the door before entering their motel room in case Spike was up, giving him a chance to take cover. Spike called the all clear and Xander pushed the door open.

Spike thanked Xander with a kiss and warmed up a cup of blood in the microwave that looked like it was two seconds away from an electrical fire. They ate (or drank) breakfast at the rickety round table (it was still amazing to Xander that he’d gotten used to eating with the smell of blood in his nostrils) and checked the local paper Xander had picked up on his way back to the motel for any mention of strange deaths.

After breakfast they looked at the map to find the closest entrance to the Preserve. The day was overcast and Spike would be protected from any sunlight that showed through once they got under the tree cover, so they left the motel as soon as they’d gathered up the weapons they needed in case they did discover a Hellmouth hidden in the middle of the woods, and Spike’s blanket just to be on the safe side.

They’d been walking along the trail for half an hour when Spike stopped. “What is it?” Xander said, carefully looking around them, trying to see (with either eye) what had caught Spike’s attention.

“I don’t know,” Spike said, “but there’s . . . _something_ that way.”

They left the trail. Xander took out his compass to note where they were headed in relation to the trail. Before they’d gotten very far a man, dark hair on his head and a couple day’s scruff on his cheeks, stepped out from behind a tree and stood in their path.

Xander slapped Spike on the back for not having sensed the man’s presence and they both stopped. “Uh, hi,” Xander said.

The man narrowed his eyes at Spike, then Xander, and said, “This is private property.”

Xander frowned. “I thought we were in the Preserve.”

“You were.” The man pointed behind them. “These woods are privately owned.”

“Sorry,” Xander said. “I didn’t realize.”

The man merely stood there and stared at them expectantly.

“Alright, we’re going,” Xander said.

Xander waited until they were back on the trail to speak. “Were we followed?”

“No.”

“I guess we’re on the right track now.”

“Yeah,” Spike agreed. “He was definitely something.”

~*~*~*~

“We’ve got a problem,” Derek said when Stiles showed up at the loft after his stint in the college library.

Stiles paused in kicking off his shoes. “A ‘you ate the last of the ice cream’ problem, or a ‘seventh sign of the apocalypse’ problem?” He padded over to the kitchen area and opened the freezer to double check the ice cream situation.

Derek gave Stiles a look. “Somewhere in the middle. Hopefully closer to the ice cream one.” Derek didn’t _sound_ hopeful.

“You say that like you eating the last of the ice cream _isn’t_ the seventh sign of the apocalypse.” Stiles closed the freezer door, even though he was in the mood for ice cream now.

“Only in your world.”

“What other world is there?”

“Everyone else’s.” Derek’s tone was drier than the Sahara.

“Psh. So, what’s the problem?”

“I caught two guys trespassing in the Preserve.”

“Not again.” Stiles stepped up to Derek and slid both hands over his chest. “You didn’t fall for one of them, did you?”

Derek gave Stiles a soft look. “I don’t fall for everyone who trespasses on private property.”

“Good thing.” Stiles rubbed their noses together before pressing his lips to Derek’s for a quick kiss. “Now, tell me about these two.”

“One of them was human, I think, but the other one was definitely supernatural.”

“How could you tell?”

“The lack of a heartbeat gave it away,” Derek said wryly.

“Oooh, zombie?”

“He didn’t appear to be on a mindless hunt for brains, so probably not.”

“Vampire?”

“Vampires aren’t real.”

“You keep saying that, but until four years ago I didn’t know _werewolves_ were real.” Derek’s expression didn’t change. “Okay, fine. What other types of supernatural creatures don’t have a heart beat?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“You only love me for my research skills.” Stiles dug the laptop out of his backpack. He couldn’t keep the excitement of learning something new about the world of the supernatural out of his voice.

“Among other things,” Derek said.

While Stiles got set up at the table Derek poured him a cup of coffee and fixed it just the way he liked. Stiles took a sip while he waited for the Bestiary to load and moaned in approval. “You don’t have to bribe me, but thank you.”

“That’s not a bribe.” Derek pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips, then slipped his tongue between them. “That’s a bribe,” he said when he pulled away.

“Damn right it is. What do you think they were doing out in the Preserve?”

“It’s probably no coincidence that the thing drawing supernatural creatures to Beacon Hills is located in the Preserve.”

“The Nemeton,” Stiles said sourly.

Stiles, Lydia and Allison had worked to make the Bestiary database searchable, so Stiles entered ‘undead’ into the search bar and pressed the enter key. “Huh,” he said when the results came up.

Derek leaned over Stiles’ shoulder. “What?”

“There are more options than I thought there’d be.”

Derek sat beside Stiles at the table and they looked through each type of undead supernatural creature.

“He didn’t smell like decay,” Derek said when Stiles pulled up the file on the Draugr. “Or look like that.” They both shuddered.

They’d dealt with Ghouls before (nasty creatures), so they skipped that one.

“No rotting flesh,” Derek said for Jiangsh. (Stiles bit his tongue and refrained from pointing out that the Jiangsh was described as a type of vampire.)

They ruled out most of the remaining creatures – the body wasn’t cadaverous (Lich), there were no bandages or moaning (Mummy), obvious reasons (Skeleton), didn’t look like a corpse or have a hunger for brains (Zombie) – which left them with two possibilities.

“So our best bets are Revenant or Vampire.”

The Revenant was described as a visible ghost or animated corpse and couldn’t be ruled out. And despite Derek’s denial of their existence, Stiles didn’t want to rule out Vampires.

“It’s not a vampire.”

“Do you really want to take that chance with my lovely neck?” Stiles drew a hand down his throat.

Derek growled. “Even if vampires are real, it was daylight when I saw them.”

Stiles glanced at the window. “Day _time_ maybe, but not much light. It’s been overcast all day and they were in the woods.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Fine. Look into it, but I’m telling you, it’s not a vampire.”

Stiles did a fist pump and turned his attention back to the laptop while Derek sent a group text to the members of the pack who’d remained in town after graduation.

Later that evening, Derek waited until they’d eaten all but two slices of veggie that Stiles head claimed for his dad to explain the situation. He sent Boyd and Erica out to do a recon-only of the town, and Liam home to do homework since it was a school night. Liam protested, but Derek stood firm. Stiles and Derek would be heading out to the Preserve in case the two made another attempt to reach the Nemeton.

They split up in the parking lot. Derek and Stiles’ first stop was the Sheriff Department where they gave his dad the slices and asked if he’d heard of anything strange happening. He hadn’t, and after Derek told him about the encounter in the preserve he told them to keep him in the loop.

As they left his dad waved the pizza at Stiles. “And don’t think I don’t know there was meat lovers there.”

“I can’t hear you,” Stiles said as he dragged Derek out of his dad’s office.

Derek’s phone rang before they got to Stiles’ Jeep to head out to the Preserve. Derek’s face darkened as he listened. “Boyd and Erica think they’ve found them,” he said when he disconnected.

Stiles squawked. “Already?”

“Did you really want to walk through the Preserve in the dark and cold?”

“It could’ve been romantic,” Stiles said. “Alright, no, but we’re never going to live it down if Boyd and Erica found them first.”

“We’ll live,” Derek said with zero sympathy.

Stiles drove out to the Gold Rush Bar & Grill located in an area that had once been nice, but was slowly being subsumed by the run-down part of town. The building itself was falling into disrepair that wasn’t noticeable in the dim illumination provided by the meager outside lighting.

Derek opened the door for Stiles because he was a gentleman. (Stiles teased him about it, but secretly loved it.)

Boyd and Erica were sitting at the bar. They caught Derek’s eye and indicated the back corner. Stiles and Derek headed that way. Two men sat at a round table, both of their backs to the wall. That probably wasn’t an accident.

They were looking at a map of Beacon Hills, the brunet talking to someone on his cell phone, so absorbed that they didn’t register Stiles and Derek bearing down on them until Stiles pulled out a chair. Stiles recognized the men as soon as they raised their heads and he got a look at their faces.

“Blooming onion guy,” Stiles said.

“Beanie guy,” the bleach blond replied.

“Stiles,” Stiles said. “And this guy, whose property you were trespassing on earlier, is Derek. Although, I know from experience how easy it is to get lost out there.”

“Stiles.” Derek pulled over a chair and sat.

Stiles grinned at Derek, then turned his attention back to the two men. “And you are?”

The brunet said, “I’ve got to go, Wills. I’ll call you back.” He disconnected the call, though even Stiles could hear the voice on the other end saying he ‘better not hang up on me if you know what’s good for you, mister!’

“I’m Xander,” the brunet said. “This is Spike.”

“That’s it,” Stiles said, “just Spike?”

Spike pouted. “Hey, I didn’t say anything about your name.”

“It’s a nickname.”

Spike smirked. “So’s mine.”

Given the smirk, Stiles was pretty sure he don’t want to know the origin of Spike’s nick name. He said as much.

Xander replied, “You really don’t. What can we do for you? We’ve already apologized for trespassing. We didn’t realize we’d crossed onto private property.”

Derek crossed his arms over his chest. “What were you doing out there?”

“Hiking the trails,” Xander said. He didn’t speak too quickly or too slowly. He was good.

“You were pretty far off the trail,” Derek pointed out.

“We followed a bird.”

“The North America Tit,” Spike said.

Stiles snorted a laugh. “I like you.” He placed his hand on the back of Spike’s wrist and curled his fingers under to feel for a pulse.

Spike held still for a moment, mostly out of surprise, Stiles figured, then jerked his hand away. “What are you looking for?”

Stiles gave Spike his own smirk. “Nothing.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He couldn’t match Derek, but that was the point. People always underestimated Stiles. “Guess what we spent the afternoon doing?”

Spike leered at them, which was probably supposed to freak them out because, euww, gay cooties.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stiles said. “We’ll be doing that later. Won’t we Der-Bear?”

Derek turned his glare onto Stiles. “Not if you call me Der-Bear again.”

“Okay, snuggle bunny.” Stiles turned back to Xander and Spike. “We were researching supernatural creatures,” he said. “Specifically those that don’t have a heart beat.”

Xander’s jaw tightened, but Spike didn’t give any outward sign of being concerned. It was times like this that Stiles wished he had Derek’s heightened senses (and times like pack movie nights when he was glad he didn’t).

“Sounds excitin’,” Spike said.

“There were more types than I’d expected. And you’d be surprised how many of them have ‘decaying’ as a descriptor.”

“Not really,” Xander said. “I ran into a Jiangsh once. In Asia,” he said at Spike’s enquiring look. “The skin sagged with putrefying flesh, and there were spots where it had broken open and leaked. The smell was awful.”

“That’s disgustin’.” Spike pushed back the plate of onion rings that had gone cold. “They’re not the same,” Spike said at Stiles’ look.

“What were you doing in Asia?” Derek said.

“Long story,” Xander said.

“As fascinating as that is,” Stiles said. “We’ve narrowed it down to Revenant or Vampire. Which is it?”

“Revenant,” Spike said quickly. Too quickly.

“What is a Revenant, exactly?”

“A ghosty thing,” Spike said.

Xander shook his head despairingly.

“You don’t have a better description of what you are?” Stiles said. He gave Spike a second then said to Derek, “I told you it was Vampire!”

“What are you?” Xander said, changing the subject.

Stiles did a double-take when he realized that Xander was talking to him and not Derek. “I’m nothing,” Stiles said. “Plain old human.”

Xander pointed to his left eye. “The eye doesn’t lie.”

“Is that your way of saying you have ‘the sight’ or something?”

“Fake eye,” Xander said. “It reads auras, energy.”

“Oh, cool.” Stiles paused, wondering how much to tell them. They’d accused Spike of being a vampire and he hadn’t tried to kill them all. “I was possessed once. By an evil spirit.” His grin felt stretched. “We don’t talk about it.”

Xander nodded and looked like he was far away for a second. “I was possessed by a Hyena once.”

“Did it make you kill a bunch of innocent people?” Stiles said.

“No. Almost raped my best friend, though.”

“Huh. That’s bad, too.”

“What are you doing in town?” Derek said.

Xander studied them the way Stiles had before speaking. “Looking for a Hellmouth.”

“What’s a Hellmouth?” Stiles said.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Spike said with a faraway look in his eyes.

What had these people been through, Stiles wondered.

“Why do you think there’s a Hellmouth here?” Derek said.

“My friend Willow, she’s a witch . . .”

“Is she a good witch, or a bad witch?” Stiles said.

“A good one, mostly,” Xander said, answering the question as if it had been legit. Given his response, maybe it should’ve been. “She sensed a powerful energy spike in the area and sent us to check it out.”

“The Nemeton,” Stiles said bitterly, because of course it was.

“What the bloody hell is a Nemeton?” Spike said.

~*~*~*~

“So it’s not a Hellmouth,” Willow said.

They were back at the motel, Skyping with her.

“It doesn’t appear to be,” Xander said. “From what they said, it’s some old Druidic oak tree. It was cut down a while ago, but someone powered it back up with a bunch of sacrifices. Now it acts as a beacon that draws supernatural creatures to the area.”

“Not a Hellmouth, but the same end result,” Willow said. “You’re going to get a look at it to confirm?”

“They’re taking us to the Nemeton tomorrow,” Xander said. “I’ll be able to see if it’s the source of the energy with my fancy new eye.”

“Alright. But what about this werewolf?”

“Apparently his family has lived in this town for generations,” Xander said, “and get this, they consider themselves its protectors.”

“Hmm,” Willow said. “Still, be careful, both of you. I’ll do some research on Nemetons and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

“We’ll call you as soon as I’ve seen the Nemeton. Plus, Stiles thought we might be able to share information.”

“Let’s wait and see,” Willow said cautiously.

Xander agreed. It wasn’t like they’d never been burned before. He shut down the laptop after they said their goodbyes and rubbed his eye socket. “You mind if I take this eye out?” he asked Spike without looking to see his reaction.

Spike’s, “‘Course not,” was immediate. “You don’t have to ask.”

Xander shrugged. “I know you wanted to . . .”

“Bloody right I want to, but you don’t need your eye for that. You know I find you attractive with or without the eye, right?”

“Because looks don’t matter?” Xander scoffed.

“Because you’re gorgeous either way.”

Xander snorted. Before Willow made him the eye it hadn’t mattered as much; it was what it was. Plus, the patch had made him look kind of badass. But now that he could ‘pass’ he often wondered if people didn’t prefer it.

“But that’s not why.”

Xander quirked his eyebrows.

“It’s because you see _me_.” Spike slid off the bed. He took Xander’s hand and placed it over his heart. “With or without the eye, Xander, you see me.”

Xander’s jaw worked hard so he wouldn’t tear up. “You really are a sap.”

“Says the man who cried when I wrote him a poem. A bad poem at that.”

“Thank you,” Xander said.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Spike said. “Just hurry up and get your ass back here so we can . . .” He pumped his hips lewdly.

Xander rolled his good eye, but moved quickly to the bathroom so he could remove the fake eye to give the socket (and his head – straining to see energy signatures and auras that weren’t there sometimes gave him the mother of all headaches) a rest and get back to Spike.

“What do you think Stiles and Derek are doing right now?” Spike called.

“I don’t want to think about that, Spike!”

~*~*~*~

Stiles gave Derek the keys to the Jeep so he could call his dad and fill him in on what had transpired at the Gold Rush Bar & Grill. Once they’d determined that Xander and Spike didn’t pose a threat, Derek had gone to the bar on the pretext of getting drinks for them and sent Boyd and Erica home with the order to meet them at the loft tomorrow after they got out of work and school respectively.

(Boyd was the manager of the ice skating rink now, and Erica was attending the local college. She and Stiles sometimes got together for study sessions so they wouldn’t be distracted by their significant others.)

Stiles sent a text to Liam. _status pink_

He added a few pink hearts to emphasize that everything was okay. (Liam had chosen pink because green made him think he needed to _go_ , to do something.) Stiles thought it was adorable. He sent another text. _stay away from the loft tomorrow after school_

Stiles chortled as he tucked the phone away. Telling Liam to stay away would get him to the loft quicker than telling him there was a pack meeting.

Derek gave Stiles a look. “What did you do?”

“Me?” Stiles said innocently. “Nothing.”

“Uh huh.”

“The question is, what am I going to be doing in, oh . . .” Stiles made a show of checking the time. “. . . about ten minutes.”

“What are you going to be doing in ten minutes?”

“You,” Stiles said. “More specifically, since you lost the bet about vampires being real . . .”

“There was no bet,” Derek said.

“Oh, there was a bet,” Stiles said, “and I won, so I’m going to choose something off the list.”

The stopped at a traffic light and the street light illuminated the pink at the tip of Derek’s ear. They each had a list consisting of things they’d tried and _really_ liked, and things they hadn’t done with each other yet, but wanted to try.

“Your list,” Stiles clarified.

Derek nearly stalled the Jeep when the light turned green. Stiles didn’t mention it, but Derek knew that Stiles knew it was because he was thinking about which item Stiles might choose from his list. Stiles was glad (and Derek would be in eight minutes) that the rebuilt Hale house wasn’t yet ready for occupation (and there wasn’t enough room for everyone at the loft) because there wouldn’t be anyone to hear the sounds Stiles knew Derek would soon be making.

“Sounds like I’m the winner here,” Derek said, seemingly back to his usual cocky self, though his voice was still a little bit tight.

Stiles ran his hand up the inside of Derek’s leg. “Let’s call it a win-win.”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> The Colorado Steakhouse is a real restaurant we used to go to quite often. Sometimes with my parents, or my brother and his GF, or Pip’s sister and her hubby. (One memorable time my niece joined us (with her parents) and we introduced her to Margaritas. She’s kind of addicted now. *g*) It was an excellent place to eat, and they did have a really good blooming onion. I’m still very sad that they closed. :(


End file.
